The eyes of an innocent child
by AECORA
Summary: One day in Harry's life when he was only a small boy with no knowledge of magic. One day, Petunia comes to a realisation and makes a choice that changes Harry's life, even if temporary. Despite the fact that not everyone agrees, but family remains family, no matter what. One-shot


_**Disclaimer: I do not own any Harry Potter content, including characters, except for the AU ones. Yet, I wish I did own all of it**_

 **This is my very first fanfic and I really hope that you'll enjoy it. This story is written without any additional help from a beta. I am not a native speaker, as English is my third language. R &R, please. Thank you**

 **Summery: One day in Harry's life when he was only a small boy with no knowledge of magic. One day when Petunia comes to a realisation and makes a choice that changes Harry's life, making it a little easier. Even if not everyone agrees, but family remains family, no matter what.**

Little Whinging had never been somewhere famous, or a very treasured location. Neither for its exquisiteness, nor for its _lovely_ occupants. Said place, hosted individuals of different personalities, habits and mind-set, however, one thing was clear for everyone. Anything and anyone out of the norm- the so-called-system was treated as an outsider, someone to not ever be associated with. Whoever stood by an outsider, became one too. Therefore, many had stopped interfering and kept to themselves. It was a strange neighbourhood, but one that existed nonetheless.

Consequently, it was not odd that a small boy with messy black hair and clear green eyes didn't receive any support from anyone as he ran head over heels from bullies chasing him. He was very fast on his feet for a seven-year old, however he was still not top notch on the stamina level. And eventually, he became tired of running, fortunately for him close to privet Drive 4, unfortunately not close enough to his safe zone- his cupboard under the stairs.

Harry panted as his small heart raced miles a minute and sweat soaked his oversized grey t-shirt. His frightened green eyes searched for someone, anyone to aid him, however none could be found. Dudley and his gang of friends were quickly catching up with him and Harry just wanted the ground to open up and swallow him seven feet under.

Harry started backing away, wanting to shout for his aunt's help, however, he knew from long time ago that it would be pointless. Tears of frustration and fear welled up in his eyes and his heart clenched in hurt. He never understood why his family didn't like him. They even sometimes said that he wasn't family and never should consider himself as such. But how could he? Shouldn't everyone have a family? And if they weren't his family, then who was? Aunt Petunia told him, reminded him nearly everyday of his parent's deaths. So he didn't have any parents. Plus, no one besides his parents could be family, other than Aunt Petunia that is.

Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon and Dudley were his family, no matter what they told him. He was sure of that and nothing was going to deter his views. He was a very determined boy.

Well, kind of.

They could be mean and very harsh sometimes, they could make him feel really bad and even cry even though big boys never should cry. That's what Uncle Vernon always says. And Harry was not a baby. But sometimes he couldn't help the tears that would spring up to his eyes and fall down his cheeks. Just like he couldn't help it right now.

"Oh baby, Harry!" Dudley laughed, the others following his lead. "Look at him, he's crying!"

But they remained his only family.

Harry sniffed and backed further away, his back thumping the fence. He looked back and forth, his small frame shaking in humiliation as the other kids laughed and pointed at him. One of them was the new boy in his class that Harry had tried to become friends with. But just as always when Harry tried to make friends, Dudley came and interfered.

Harry had yet to say anything. He knew it would be futile and the typical Dudley-punch would soon follow as he was obviously cornered and in no state to continue running. The Dudley-punch was simply- a punch. But a very painful one that usually was either was on the face or in his stomach. This was going to be the forth time and Harry was dreading it.

Just as Harry lifted up his arms to protect his face, Dudley's fist raised up in the air, a sudden noise from behind shocked everyone into silence.

A slam of a door made all of them turn in that direction. Heads swivelled that way and necks craned to see what was the source. Even Dudley became distracted.

"Harry, you still have chores to do! What are you doing out?!"

Just like that, Harry's day was saved.

*.*.*.*

Dishes, dishes, dishes all day long. They never seemed to end, mostly not with her dear, husband's and diddykin's appetites that never seemed to decrease, any degree whatsoever. However, both were out right now and she just finished off washing the last item, a small plate that had been dirty from small crumbs of bread. The very same plate she'd given him to eat his breakfast.

To a small boy that slept under the stairs of her home.

Petunia hung the towel back on a crook on the side of the counter, which she used to dry her hands from the water unless they become parched. She crossed the kitchen to the glass doors that led to her backyard and opened one of the doors. Fresh air of the summery wind, danced across her face and her eyes closed in the tranquillity of the moment.

However, the tranquillity was unforgivingly erased in a flash because of the way her heart suddenly clenched painfully in the reminder of something she'd been trying to ignore since morning. The very same morning she'd found a small, old and crunched up picture of someone she hadn't seen in many years. Someone she missed dearly and wished for to see again, alive and healthy.

She'd found the picture of her deceased sister, her baby sister.

Petunia's eyes clenched tightly and a fist clasped the cloth of her blue dress beside her heart. The fist tightened further when the picture sprung up in her mind, the smiling face of Lily. Her red hair flowing behind her as she held her favourite flower.

Petunia opened her eyes and moved them to gaze at the bluebells sitting in a vase on the sill of one of her windows. She gave a sad smile in the remembrance of how Lily had always hated the fact that everyone assumed her favourite flowers were lilies, when she'd always adored the small bluebells.

A lone tear fell from Petunia's eye and she didn't wait a second to brush it away, shaking her head at the way she felt herself losing control of her emotions. It was something she couldn't afford to happening. Because ones that happened, a pain that she wouldn't be able to bear would take hold of her and consume her in its misery. It would make her unable to look certain someone in the eye and treat him the way she'd always done.

The fact that it was difficult to look into the boy's extraordinarily green eyes, even more so than his mother's, this morning said enough of how much seeing that picture had affected her. Still, she couldn't bring herself to throw it away and hid it in the furthest back of her wardrobe.

No matter what others believed, Petunia did have a heart. She didn't hate her nephew- but she hated what he reminded her of. Petunia hated how much he made her guilty feelings for her sister, come forward from their buried state. She hated how much he didn't bring her the happy feelings and memories of her sister. The only thing she could think of every time she saw Harry was how she'd abandoned her baby sister. Petunia hadn't even had the time to say goodbye.

Lily's death had been a merciless shock, only a letter from a lunatic headmaster, and a tiny baby boy on her doorstep.

Therefore, Petunia had to make the boy hate her, detest every moment of seeing her.

Because Petunia didn't feel like she _deserved_ his love or respect. She didn't _deserve_ him looking up to her.

A sudden noise of laughter outside the window caught her attention and gave her a distraction from her thoughts. Petunia moved across the living room and stood beside the window, a few bluebells brushing her dress.

Her son and his friends had yet again cornered the boy and were mocking him. It was a habit that Petunia detested and couldn't bring herself to accept. The act of bullying is something to never be valued, nor appreciated in any way. That's why she never valued or appreciated herself.

Vernon gave Dudley a pat on his shoulder every time Dudley came and told them of what he'd done to one of the 'lowly' kids in his class. Vernon tells him that it is something manly and he should be proud of it.

It made Petunia angry that she wouldn't be able to against her son and husband. She'd be alone.

However, she couldn't ignore it when it was happening in front of her, not again. Or more like- she didn't want Dudley becoming like her and his father. Bullies to the core.

And that's how she found herself on the porch, calling for her nephew.

"Mummy?"

"Dudley, dear, why don't you and Harry come in? It's time for lunch." Petunia said, glaring daggers at the other kids, when Harry had yet to look her way. They moved their eyes away from her in fear and seemed to huddle closer to each other. Harry's shoulders were tense and his head hung low.

"Okay!" Dudley turned to his friends and told them that he'd see them later, never being the one to turn down food.

Harry had already started towards her, still not lifting up his head. He walked past her and stood waiting in the hall. She followed and didn't wait for Dudley. He'd come on his own, now that she made sure that Harry was inside the house. Petunia hurried to the kitchen and started warming up leftovers from yesterday. She'd cook new dishes later for dinner.

Petunia was just about to reach for a glass of water to quench the thirst brought from the sudden heat of the summer, when there was a loud scream from the hall. Petunia jumped in surprise and ran to see what happened. What she saw, was something she hadn't expected.

Dudley was standing near the stairs, his eyes wide and watering and his hands were covering his mouth. Harry on the other hand, was laying on the floor, coddling his left arm to his chest. His face was hidden from view as he had huddled into a ball, quiet weeps of pain coming from him. It didn't take a genius to understand what happened.

"What did you do Dudley?! Harry? Hey, let me see." Petunia crouched beside the crying boy and tried lifting him up into a sitting position. But he was adamant to remain the way he was.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to push him onto the stairs! He just fell!"

Petunia didn't even try to hold back her glare. Dudley gave a whimper, but didn't say anything else.

"Harry, come on. Let me see it."

After some time, Harry finally managed to move from his protective ball and let her inspect the damage. She was no doctor, but she could tell that it didn't look good. The only way to know was to bring him to the hospital. Vernon wouldn't be home before at least five hours. Petunia had already made her decision.

"Come on, let's get you to the hospital."

Harry didn't say anything, but allowed her to lift him up and carry him to their car. Dudley had to follow; she wouldn't leave him alone at home.

*.*.*.*

After a long wait and an exhausting procedure of examinations, Harry gained a splint to immobilize his sprained wrist. He'd apparently tried to protect himself from falling face-first on the stair step and his wrist had taken the damage. As they'd waited for the doctors and nurses to finish their work, Dudley had received a good scolding from her, that he'd probably remember till he became seventy-year-old. He'd cried and apologized, to her and Harry.

Harry had been quiet, but accepted the apology, but he'd also been tired and quite out of it from the painkillers.

They were finally home, Harry sleeping in his cupboard after a long day. He was going to carry that splint for two weeks and the painkillers were also needed.

Only when Petunia started with dinner, did she realise what she'd done. She had protected her nephew from her son and scolded her precious son for hurting someone she was supposed to dislike. It was something strange and something she couldn't quite understand. So, just like she always did, Petunia pushed it aside and buried it deep so it never could be brought forward.

Harry wouldn't know why she did what she did, and neither would he remember Dudley apologizing to him. Or so she hoped.

"God, please, don't let something like this get repeated." Petunia whispered to the empty kitchen.

*.*.*.*

Harry slept peacefully. When he woke up for dinner, Aunty Petunia had made everything ready, without his help. She gave him his medications and put a little more food on his plate than what she usually allowed him to eat. Harry was surprised and confused, but he wasn't going to complain.

He glanced at Uncle Vernon, but Uncle Vernon was busy reading the newspaper, again. Another glance, at Dudley this time made Harry think about something else. He remembered Dudley saying sorry and that wasn't going to punch him again. Harry could tell that Dudley was saying the truth, but he also knew that when things became better, Dudley would find another game to laugh about later.

However, right now, everything seemed perfect. He felt welcome and wanted. Harry understood that it wasn't going to last. But he was going to enjoy it and remember it.

Remember the way Aunty Petunia had protected him, just like family.

…The end….


End file.
